


Pure Imagination

by LadySerpentine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Supernatural Imagines, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Tumblr Prompt, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, crossposted, reader POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySerpentine/pseuds/LadySerpentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this <a href="http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/96656574494/source">Dirty Supernatural Imagines</a> post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pure Imagination

It was late.

Your music was echoing through the underground rooms, filling the empty bunker and your heart with beautiful sounds. It made a pleasant change from Dean’s endless hair metal, or Sam’s Maroon 5 warblings.

That was, until your phone buzzed loudly, alerting you that you had a text message.

You unlocked the screen, and read the message Sam had sent you:

“ ** _Hunt’s done. We got what we needed. Go down to the dungeon and tell Crowley we’ll be back in about two days, and remind him that he better be feeling more cooperative by the time we’re home._** ”

 You sighed.

Your phone vibrated again in your hand, and when you glanced down, there was another text message, this time from Dean.

“ _ **Pick up pie.**_ ”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. Sam’s the practical one, Dean’s the one thinking with his stomach. Just typical from what you’ve learned about their personalities.

Ever since the boys rescued you from some sort of crazed ghost a few months ago (and you were never the biggest fan of fictional ghosts to begin with, but this one was real, and tried to kill you) you’ve been at a bit of a loss. This thing killed your partner, and your best friend, and damn near killed you, too.

Once you were safe, the Winchesters picked up their stuff. You were standing there, covered in the blood of people you cared about and feeling your mind and heart break, and they were just walking away! They came into your life like a tornado, and they were just leaving you to pick up the pieces and carry on. 

You snapped, and yelled out, “What do I do now?!”

They turned, staring at you with varying expressions of confusion on their faces.

"If you think for one second I can go back to working retail after this, you’ve another thing coming. Take me with you."

Dean scoffed, while Sam tried to explain to you that it was out of the question.

"Look, you two just proved to me that there are ghoulies and ghosties and all kinds of beasties out there in the dark. If I’m not gonna spend the rest of my life in a padded cell somewhere, I want to know how to fight them. Teach me how to do what you two do, and then I’ll be out of your long, luxurious locks of hair. Deal?"

Dean had snorted in amusement at your crack about Sam’s hair, but eventually they agreed to train you up.

That was almost five months ago.

Normally, you’d have been pissed off about being left behind in the Bunker while the boys went out on a hunt, but the last outing involved you mishandling the shotgun. Sam was still confused that someone could let go of a shotgun because the recoil “surprised” them, whereas Dean found it hilarious that you were knocked out by your own gun hitting you in the head. No matter how it happened, you wound up with a concussion, and you weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders. Even though you hadn’t had any symptoms for the last week, Sam and Dean had been adamant that you stay behind for this one.

"Besides," Dean had said with a wry smirk, "You can spend all that time listening to your crap music and pretending you don’t think Crowley’s hot."

"Oh sure, sounds great! You’d know all about denying someone’s hot, wouldn’t you?" you said sweetly, making Sam choke on his coffee, and Dean grumble loudly about not knowing what you were talking about.

At least you could admit when you were attracted to someone, unlike Dean and the long, loaded looks he and Cas shared.

Yes, you could certainly say yours was a much healthier attraction, at least in that you could admit it to yourself.

You fancied the well tailored pants off the King of Hell.

Of course, that didn’t mean you’d act on it.

You’d never hear the end of it from Dean and Sam, for one thing. For another - hello, King of Hell?! Hardly a good long-term prospect, really. After what happened to your partner, however, you were starting to think that just maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about long-term.

Maybe you should just be thinking about what your body needs, and it could certainly do with a night with that ridiculously attractive demon.

Oh well. No harm in letting your imagination run wild, as long as you didn’t act on your impulses, right? As soon as you dealt with Crowley, you could go to your bedroom and deal with yourself, and get rid of some of that sexual frustration. Until then, duty called.

You walked down to the dungeon, adjusting your clothes as you walked. Just because you weren’t going to act on your ridiculous attraction to Crowley didn’t mean you couldn’t ensure you looked your best.

Today had been all about comfort, so you hadn’t even bothered with pants, opting instead for a cotton jersey dress that skimmed over your figure, falling to your knees. When you had picked it out this morning, you hadn’t realised just how inflammatory it could be. It was sleeveless, and as black as anything Crowley wore, and showed off just enough of your legs and décolletage.

You grinned to yourself as you pushed open the door to the dungeon. Big deal if your dress might have been just  _this_  side of provocative. You were here on business, not on pleasure. If Crowley was distracted by the teensiest suggestion of legs and boobs, it was hardly your fault!

As you stepped inside the dungeon, you were struck by how chilly the room was compared to the rest of the bunker.

That thought went right out of your head as soon as you heard Crowley’s voice.

"Hello, love," he drawled, sending a shiver up your spine.

"Evening, Crowley!" you said cheerily, approaching him where he sat in the middle of a devil’s trap, shackled to the chair by his wrists and his throat.

"And what brings my favourite honorary Winchester to see me today?" he asked.

You stepped inside the devil’s trap and perched yourself casually on the table to talk to him. This wasn’t the first time you had come down to the dungeon to have a little tête-à-tête with the King of Hell. .

"Funny you should mention the name Winchester, because the boys are on the way home."

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Oh, wonderful! Just when I was getting used to the peace and quiet.”

It was hard to keep a straight face. His dislike of the boys was also tempered with a strange fondness that you didn’t quite understand, but it made you laugh. Two hunters with a reputation as fearsome as Sam and Dean were frenemies with the King of Hell, and that just tickled you.

"Aww, you know you missed Moose and Squirrel," you teased, using the nicknamed he had given the boys.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"I find the present company much more appealing," he said.

Damn.

It was very difficult to not rise to the bait. Crowley’s voice (and not to mention that accent) could make almost anything sound like an invitation to bed, and it was just plain unfair of him to openly flirt.

"Well, you won’t have to put up with the boys if you just co-operate with them, yeah?" you suggested, clearing your throat. "Give them what they want, and you’ll be free to go!"

Your treacherous brain told you that it’d be quite nice for Crowley to give you what  _you_ want, too, but you tried to push those thoughts down. Every time you thought you had succeeded, your brain helpfully supplied a new mental image.

_The things Crowley could do if the roles were reversed - you shackled to the chair, him in control._

_**No, bad brain! Stop that!** _

_Okay … we’ll leave him shackled to the chair. No biggie._

_**Yes, that works …** _

_And then you can suck him and drive him wild because he can’t move or do anything but sit there and enjoy it!_

You would have objected to that thought, but you could feel your body reacting to those naughty thoughts. Your brain and your body were conspiring against you, and it was patently unfair!

Crowley’s smile widened, and you weren’t sure that was an appropriate response to what you had actually said aloud.

"Maybe I enjoy not giving them what they want," he said.

"It’s not nice to tease, Crowley," you reminded him. "It’s not the way to win friends and influence Winchesters."

The smile on his face was a smirk by now, and no, no, noooo you couldn’t handle it.

_Imagine all the other ways we could make him smile like that._

_**No, bad brain! Stop that at once, or I’ll get blackout drunk and kill off some of you treacherous brain cells!** _

_Okay, okay, I’ll stop._

_**Good!** _

_No mentions of giving him a lap dance._

_**Stop that!** _

_And I won’t bring up how much fun it would be if you unlocked his chains and had him fuck you until the table breaks._

_**AAAAARGH!** _

Crowley chuckled, making you turn your head to face him, sure there was a blush on your cheeks.

"Something funny, Crowley? You won’t be laughing when the boys get back."

That was right, get back to business. You could think about all those dirty ideas once you were done here. You could go to your room and think loooooong and hard about them.

Crowley smirked the smirkiest smirk you’d ever seen.

"No, nothing funny at all, love," he drawled. "I just didn’t know you had it in you."

You felt your eyes widen.

"Had … what in me?" you asked, your throat suddenly dry.

"All those naughty ideas of yours. I must say, I’m quite taken with the idea of bending you over the table."

You were silent for a moment or two until your brain went Chernobyl, overloading with lust and mortification. You wanted to have a witty retort for that, but you just ended up choking on your words when he spoke again.

"Didn’t know demons can read your mind, love?" he asked, chuckling softly. "I must say, for a hunter, you’ve got some very impure thoughts. Unless fucking a demon is how you fight them these days, and I have to admit, it would make a pleasant change of pace."

You jumped off the table, heart pounding, and said firmly, “That’s it exactly - I’m a hunter, and you’re the King of Hell. Just because I haven’t had any action that wasn’t battery powered in months is no reason to act on any crazy impulses I have!”

You blushed, cursing yourself for admitting that out loud to him, but if the son of a bitch could really read your mind, he’d have seen the thought there anyway.

Crowley tutted. “So, you’re thinking you’ll just go back to your little bedroom now, break out your battery powered little friend and try to make yourself come that way, hmm?”

You could feel yourself blushing so hard you were surprised it wasn’t illuminating the dungeon.

"And so what if I do?" you demanded. Screw being coy, the guy had literally overheard every dirty thought you had had about him since you walked into the room. If he said anything to the boys, you’d deny it down to the ground, or just blame it on the concussion.

There it was again, that sinfully appealing chuckle. It was doing nothing to help matters. You could feel just how wet you were, and the sooner you got out of this dungeon, the sooner you could be sure you wouldn’t do anything crazy like fuck the King of Hell.

"Darling, have you ever heard the phrase,  _you might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb_?” he asked, making you squint at him like he had lost his mind.

"Uh, no?" you said.

"What it means is that if the penalty will be the same regardless of what choice you make, you might as well commit the bigger crime."

You bit your lower lip. It was clear what he was suggesting.

"And just in case you want me to make it abundantly clear, love - I’m suggesting you unchain me, and we can act out every sinful little fantasy you have about me."

You made a strangled noise of pure  _want_  until he smirked and said cockily, “Because either way, it’ll be  _me_  making you come tonight. Might as well make it the real deal, rather than that wonderfully over-active imagination of yours.”

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck … He was right. The choice was get off with your vibrator and thoughts  _of_  Crowley, or actually get off  _with_  Crowley.

Without a second thought, you crossed the short distance between you and him, and unlocked his chains one by one. You had to stoop to get the ones at his wrists, and you whimpered when you felt his hot breath against your décolletage. As you stood up to unlock the shackle around his neck, his hands skimmed across your hips. It was just the barest amount of contact, but it was enough to make you blush.

"That’s my girl," he murmured. You bit your lip, and tossed the keys as far as you could out of the devil’s trap. Just because you were stupid enough to act on your desires didn’t mean you were completely stupid.

You backed away slightly as Crowley stood out of the chair, rubbing his wrists.

"Much better, darling, thank you."

You bit your lip, your gaze falling to the floor until it it stopped halfway, focusing on the fly of the demon’s pants.

The boys had mentioned that Crowley sold his soul for “an extra few inches below the belt”, but you had thought that was just a bad joke. You licked your lips when you realised that no, it wasn’t a joke at all, it was very true - and holy shit you were going to get to enjoy every extra inch!

Crowley noticed where you were looking and smirked.

"Oh, we’ll get there soon enough, pet," he promised, and you felt your knees go weak at the thought. "First of all, get your sweet arse on that table - now."

For the first time that night, your body and your brain were perfectly happy to work together. You perched on the edge of the table as instructed. You had always had a kink for being bossed around in the bedroom. The fact you were in a dungeon right now didn’t change that.

With a low growl, Crowley surged forward, standing between your knees, his hands gripping the hem of your dress and shoving the soft fabric up your thighs, his palms sliding along your skin as he moved.

"Hmm, I can tell you’re a new hunter," he remarked.

You would have protested until he added, “Your skin is too smooth. You should see Moose; the boy’s a criss-cross of scars. But your skin … it’s soft. Supple.  _Very_  attractive, darling.”

You echoed your earlier words, “It’s not nice to tease, Crowley.”

He smirked. “Taking one’s time doesn’t count as teasing, pet. You said the boys are on their way home, but I reckon we should have at least a few hours before they’re back. I want to do every sinful thing you imagined, so that you’ll never be able to look at me again without thinking about how I made you feel.”

You couldn’t suppress a whimper, especially when his hands slipped under the skirt of your dress.

"I could smell how much you wanted me as soon as you walked in, love," he murmured, fingers ghosting over the lace fabric of your panties. Teasing fingertips finally brushed over your clit, making you gasp, and then moved further between your legs, their movements stilling while Crowley smirked. "So wet for me, darling. Mind if I have a taste?"

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs slowly before kneeling in front of you, and you could feel his breath on your flesh. He kissed his way up your inner thigh, pushing your legs further apart.

Fuck, he was taking too  _long_ , and every word that came out of his mouth was just making you want him more!

"Crowley … for fuck’s sake, I don’t need the foreplay!" you complained, earning you a sharp slap to the sensitive skin on your inner thigh.

"Silly girl," he growled. "I don’t think you understand who’s in control here. You just sit there and enjoy what I’m going to do to you, understand? And once you can say my name the way I want to hear it, I’ll give you what you need."

Your brow furrowed in confusion for a moment until you felt his tongue lick from the base of your pussy right up to your clit. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. 

His tongue licked along your folds, teasing at your clit until you were squirming, and your mind was a mess of  _oh fuck yes please sir can I have some more._ Clearly, Crowley could hear you, because he decided that yes, he was going to give you some more. He pushed one finger into you as his lips pressed against your clit, alternating between suckling and flicking it with his tongue. A second finger joined the first, and he curled them inside you to hit your g spot. 

It was a damn good thing the boys were out, because your moans were getting louder and more needy by the second. Crowley was achieving things with his lips and tongue that most men couldn’t achieve with both hands and a list of detailed instructions with helpful diagrams. 

"Oh, Crowley!" you gasped, gripping the edge of the table with both hands as your hips bucked forward.

He paused in his ministrations just long enough to growl out, “Much better, pet … but not quite good enough yet.”

You whimpered, reaching one hand between your legs because damn it, you were so  _close_  and those wonderful lips had gone away and you just needed another little push … 

Crowley grabbed you by the wrist and said firmly, “No. If you do that again, I’ll shackle you up in that chair and won’t let you come for  _hours_. Now, be a good girl, and just enjoy yourself, yes?” 

You nodded mutely before biting your lip, pleading him with your eyes. 

He smirked, and ducked his head again. This time, he was relentless. He pushed a third finger into your pussy while his tongue swirled around your clit. His fingers curled inside you, coaxing your orgasm from your g spot while his tongue suckled on your clit. You slumped back across the table, trembling and moaning, unable to keep yourself upright any more, and it was his name on your lips as you came hard beneath his mouth and around his fingers.

He growled out an, “Oh,  _yes_ , that’s more like it!” and before you had time to recover, he was standing up, and unbuckling his belt. He didn’t even bother to remove any more clothes than that. He simply unzipped his pants, reached inside and pulled out his impressive cock.

Your eyes widened a little. Surely that monster wasn’t going to  _fit_  - but before you could say anything, it was filling you up completely. You arched your back, grinding yourself down on him and moaned like a whore. 

"Oh fuck, Crowley!" you gasped. "Feels so good in me … Need you to move, Crowley, please …" 

He smirked, pleased with the sinful sounds coming from your mouth. With a click of his fingers, both your clothes vanished and he finally started rolling his hips. He withdrew almost completely, teasing you for a moment or two with thoughts of whether or not he would come back, before pushing in again, his hands grasping your hips almost painfully tight.

"Should have bent you over and fucked you the first time you ever wandered down here," he growled. "You think I couldn’t tell how much you wanted me, even back then? I could  _tell_ , darling. How many times did you come down here and then go back to your room and touch yourself?” 

Your only response was a whimper, because you were so blissed out from your orgasm, and now how perfect his cock felt as it pounded you, that you could barely form coherent thoughts any more - let alone talk. 

He chuckled, sliding his hands up your body, never stopping the relentless thrust of his hips into you. 

"Silly girl. You should have just told me. I’d have been very happy to tend to your needs." 

Your brain completely short circuited at that. You couldn’t think, all you could focus on was how wonderful the lower half of your body felt, and just how sinful it was to be fucked senseless by the King of Hell. 

You weren’t the only one losing your senses. Crowley’s pillow chat had trailed off into  _very_  attractive groans, the thrust of his hips becoming more frantic. Between the noises he was making and the feeling of him pounding you, you were so close to another orgasm. The thought had barely crossed your mind before he was reaching between your bodies, cunning fingertips circling your clit, the pressure gentle but insistent. 

Your mouth fell open, and you clenched around him, gasping out his name, trembling as you came. He growled appreciatively at the way you said his name, and he pulled out, stroking himself once, twice, before coming hard, dripping come all over your breasts and chest. 

He shivered, staring at the sight of you on the table, fucked out and covered in his come.

"Now … wasn’t that much better than anything your little vibrator could achieve?" he asked, his expression smug. 

You gave a breathless laugh, and looked up at him, smirking. “I think I’ll be insisting that the boys send me down here to deal with you more often.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted this on my Tumblr, supernaturlolz, and it was inspired by a Dirty Supernatural Imagines post featuring mind reading Crowley. Om nom nom nom, Crowley is delicious!


End file.
